Common Ground: Prologue
by Ursula Cousland
Summary: Intro Details specific to Aniya Hawke. These chapters are more meant to demonstrate what went into making Aniya the person she is when she flees to Kirkwall with her family to escape the Blight. Standard disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware. :
1. Chapter 1

_**Common Ground**_

"_Is it fate, or chance? I can never decide…" – Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds_

**Prologue**

_Kirkwall Harbor, approximately 9:08 Dragon_

Malcolm Hawke stared over the stern of the _Drake's Eye_ as she slowly pulled clear of the Kirkwall harbor. The city looked different from a distance, and he wasn't sorry to see it growing smaller. He was still exhausted, and not completely convinced that what he had done for the Wardens was the right thing. Still, they'd agreed to obscure his trail from the Kirkwall Chantry, and he had been able to demand an almost ridiculous sum from them, even if they _had_ threatened Leandra when he began to have second thoughts. The situation had terrified his new wife and brought the baby early, he'd found to his dismay when he returned to Kirkwall. _Barely wed and barely born, and already both were in danger._ He sighed, then smiled and shook off the dark turn his thoughts were starting to take when he heard his wife's light footsteps behind him and his daughter's muted fussing as the morning sun woke her.

"Here, Leandra. Let me take her for a while. I need to get to know her anyway." He smiled at her and held out his arms for the tiny newborn. He turned her face from the direct sun, and her fussing turned to cooing before she dozed off again. Leandra wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She sighed contentedly and then quietly told him, "I'm going to go get some sleep while she cooperates. She's been wearing me out."

Malcolm nodded, shifted the bundle to the crook of his arm, and wrapped one arm around his wife for a quick squeeze before she went below deck. He watched her go, remembering why he'd risked what he had, and why they were leaving Kirkwall, and decided that regrets were foolish. He was madly in love with his wife, she returned that love, their firstborn daughter was healthy and strong, and he was free of a Circle he'd begun to fear. Life was definitely good at the moment, and it was easy to believe that the future was bright.

He carefully shifted his daughter into both of his arms again, and found himself looking into small eyes that were already beginning to change from their newborn blue. He realized with a start that not only was her infant hair already showing signs of being auburn like his, but her eyes were going to be brown, as well. "You're going to favor me, aren't you, Aniya?" he asked her quietly, partially around the lump in his throat. Aniya Hawke smiled a gummy baby smile at him, and, as he held her close, reached out and touched his face for the first time.

Malcolm wasn't sure if his next thought was a prayer, or his whispered hopes for her. Whatever it was, he'd never meant anything so sincerely in his life.

"Please just don't favor me in magic. _Please."_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 1**_

_**Ferelden, Near Lothering**_

_**9:27 Dragon**_

Lieutenant Karlson sighed. The boy who had slid off the dusty, thin nag and saluted couldn't be over fifteen. He had respectfully asked where to find Aniya Hawke, and said he was her brother. The boy stood stoically as Karlson dispatched his aide to find her, but his eyes were red and his face was pale.

The lieutenant didn't have any trouble bringing the scout to mind. Hawke was good; for all she had joined as green as new grass, she was tough, smart, determined, and most importantly, ambitious. Extensive arms training had done wonders for the girl; she was a fast learner and took to daggers and close combat like a fish to water. She was a miserable shot, though, but that should improve with more training.

_Unless…_

The girl's family _could _call her home, if there was sufficient hardship; the law was clear. He didn't want to lose her; she'd already declined a position as a sapper once, but the duty was a dangerous one, and he needed soldiers both willing to do the job and smart enough not to die doing it. The sound of running feet on well-packed camp dirt drew him from his thoughts as Scout Hawke slid to a stop and saluted him.

"Sir? You sent for me?" She looked at him, and then saw her brother – and her face fell.

"At ease, Hawke. The lad says he has a message for you."

When Hawke's face went red and her hands started to shake, Karlson walked away to let her have some privacy and to pen the leave papers. He could guess what that letter said; he'd seen too many other youngsters under his command get those for it to be anything else.

* * *

><p>Bethany came downstairs and found Carver staring angrily out the window. She followed her twin's gaze but didn't see anyone outside.<p>

"The Golden Bitch just left." Carver snapped, as if he read her thoughts.

"Don't be a prat, Carver. I heard you start into her before the door slammed." He flushed an angry red and scowled at her. Bethany glared back at him and cut him off as he opened his mouth to retort. "Shut it. And keep an ear out for Mother, will you? I dosed her again, but she should be waking up soon. And _don't_ _you dare_ take your feelings out on _her_. It's bad enough you did it to Aniya. She's got her own problems and doesn't need yours too!" With that, Bethany snatched up her staff and a waterskin and left. She barely remembered to catch the door before it slammed a second time.

Fortunately, the dew was fresh and Bethany could see her sister's tracks through it. She found Aniya at the edge of the farm's small orchard. She was sitting on one of the large boulders that marked the boundary of their land with her head on her hands. As Bethany approached, she saw that her sister's face was wet with tears.

"I love him, but Carver's still an ass. Forget it." She said softly, as she put her hand on Aniya's shoulder. At her touch, Aniya buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook. Bethany put her staff down and rubbed her sister's shoulders gently; she murmured reassurances that were more soothing because of her voice than what she actually said. She knew perfectly well that her older sister was devastated and struggling not to show it; when she was back with the army, she'd have no choice.

Aniya finally sat up, took a few deep breaths, and rubbed her eyes. Her face was red, but she looked relieved. Bethany offered her the waterskin; she took a drink and poured some of the water into one hand to wash her face. They sat together in silence for a few moments.

"He thinks I'm a heartless bitch because I managed to stay in control during the pyre, and because I have to go today." Aniya took a shuddery breath and continued. "I really don't want to leave so soon, Beth, but I have to. I only have enough leave to attend the service and get back. I can't afford to get discharged now, or worse, get accused of desertion. _We_ can't afford that." Bethany suddenly noticed her sister was in uniform, and her pack was next to the boulder. "I just wanted to wait until Mother woke before I left. Then Carver decided to lay into me, and I couldn't take it. I'd have just have said things I'll regret later." Her face fell and her eyes filled with tears again.

Bethany let Aniya get some semblance of control back before she spoke again.

"He loves you very much, and he looks up to you. You know that." Bethany sighed. "He's not a bad person, just very conflicted. He feels like he got forgotten about when it was obvious I was a mage and you and Father were always close. He feels like he's stuck here, and that no one values him for _him_, and he hates it."

"I know, but I can't get him into the army until he's at least seventeen. They won't take him, and I can't risk lying to get him in. At least then, he'll get a chance to stand on his own or at least take it out on someone else." Aniya considered a moment, and then her expression hardened with resolve. "My commander has been trying to get me to train as a sapper for a while now. I think I'll take him up on it."

Bethany frowned. "What's that involve?"

"Well, among other things, it involves training in 'strategic disasters', and 'disposing' of enemy officers. It's not considered strictly honorable work, and it's dangerous, but it's turned tides of battle numerous times –"

"WHAT? You're mad! Mother will kill you when she finds out! Or she'll die of fright!" Bethany's shout made her sister wince.

"That's why you aren't going to tell her, or anyone else for that matter." Aniya fixed her with a stern look. "The reason I'm going to do it is _because_ it's dangerous. The pay's double what I get now as a scout because they can't get many people to risk doing it. I don't think we can afford for me pass that up, at least until Carver can get his ass recruited."

Bethany threw her arms around Aniya then and tried not to start crying herself. She nearly knocked the other woman off the stone. "Just be careful. We don't want to hold another pyre anytime soon!"

"I will. I promise." Aniya hugged her back, and her tone was deadly serious. Then, her expression softened. "I bet Mother's awake by now. I should probably go say goodbye and get going." She picked up her pack and passed Bethany her staff.

The two sisters walked back to the farmhouse in affectionate silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

_**Ostagar**_

_**9:30 Dragon**_

Aniya's squad of sappers staggered back into camp later than expected; the Grey Warden recruits that had come out earlier that day had news about how close the Darkspawn were actually getting, so they'd sent out every sapper and saboteur they could summon to lay out a welcome for the spawn. So far, the campaign had been going well, and her squad had a certain amount to do with that, so they'd gotten set to the hardest task; rigging parts of the ruins to become chokepoints so that, if necessary, they could try to staunch the flow of incoming hostiles or trap them so the archers could more effectively deal with them.

The Grey Warden that had been sent with them to keep an eye out for Darkspawn was a huge bear of a man, with an amusing, if a bit ribald, sense of humor; far more of one than they'd expected their warden escort to have. In other words, he had fit right in, and he was a great help in moving materiel for them. They spent a great deal of the night rigging parts of the ruins and a couple of bridges at maximum bowshot range, so that they could at least slow down an advancing force. The process had taken far longer than she had expected. _They don't build like this anymore. _The old stone buildings in the ruins were extraordinally solid, and they'd had to bypass that stone to find anything that they could blast apart with what they had on hand.

_Now, let's just hope they do what the King's advisors think they will. _And, _if the King and the Wardens are right and this is really the beginning of a Blight, let's hope the Archdemon doesn't show itself. All the explosives in the world won't help us if that happens._

She tried not to think of the large numbers of Darkspawn they'd been fighting. True, they'd been victorious so far, but she was starting to have a gut feeling that they were right about the Blight.

"All right, Boom Rats. Let's clear off." She ordered them back to the base camp. "Get some rest if you can. We'll need it."

* * *

><p>"So, are we keeping score again?" Aniya asked Carver as they stood shoulder to shoulder with the vanguard. Aniya's mabari was also with them; he was a big brute named Sarge, and he was clearly upset about being off of the front lines.<p>

"Yes, but you don't get to count the rat traps." Carver smirked at her. "That's cheating."

"Bullshit, Carver. Anything that means we win this battle is fair game. Besides, you have an advantage with that thing." She grinned and nodded at the big two-handed sword that had become Carver's weapon of choice. Aniya liked the fact that that army life was agreeing with him. He was far more confident, and far less bitter and tense toward her than he had been a few years ago; he was becoming his own man.

They didn't have the most glamorous job, but there was a reason. They were stationed near the archers, in part so Aniya could advise them on activating her squad's handiwork, and in part to make that the archers had time to do theirs.

Sarge whined, clearly bored. The big mabari had been a thorn in the Houndmaster's side, mostly because he had been a restless, annoying nuisance. When Carver said he wanted to try to be chosen by the problematic dog, he'd nearly choked on his lunch when Aniya warned him why the mabari was named what he was.

"It's because he barks at everyone, has dominance problems, and pisses all over everything," she'd deadpanned to him in a whisper, and then whacked him on the back as he coughed before he could laugh out loud. Unfortunately for Carver, the mabari had taken a liking to Aniya instead, so now, he was 'her' problem and not the Houndmasters'. The thing was, as soon as he'd 'chosen' Aniya, he became a model citizen, even an amiable one.

"Easy, boy. We'll see action soon enough." She reached down to scratch him behind the ears. The dog closed his eyes blissfully.

"Maker, Aniya, he's not a lap dog!"

"No, but he understands what we say and I think he appreciates not being yelled at all the time. Uh oh – "she stared over the edge of the wall. "Here comes the King and the Wardens. With all those spawn out there," she pointed at the massed forms they could see in the moonlight, "it'll be any time now."

"Wow, look at them! I hope the reinforcements that Teyrn Mac Tir has will be enough!" Carver's eyes bulged a little.

Aniya nodded grimly. "Yeah. With any luck and the skills of my boom rats, Teyrn Loghain's forces will be."

Carver didn't hear her next comment; "I just wish we had Teyrn Cousland's forces as well."

* * *

><p>The battle was not going well so far; the front lines were in danger of being overwhelmed even despite the successful trapping and demolitions. Darkspawn were even making it up to the archers, and Aniya, Carver, and the rest of the forces arrayed there had their hands full. She was fighting back-to-back with her brother, and Sarge was buying them room to work, but they knew they were in trouble.<p>

"Those Wardens lighting the beacon had better hurry up!" She told Carver as she slashed down yet another Darkspawn and sidestepped its falling form.

Almost as soon as she said it, there was a bright flash of light on the top of the Tower of Ishal.

"There it is!" Carver yelled triumphantly. A ragged cheer went up as the light spread.

Within a few moments, however, it was becoming painfully obvious that no reinforcements were coming. Suddenly, an outcry went up among the archers, who had a better vantage point than anyone else on the field. Apparently, the Teyrn had taken his forces and quit the field, rather than joining the battle as he had been supposed to do. Aniya could feel the panic beginning to set in.

"Shit. If that's true, Carver, we'll need to get everyone out of here before we're all slaughtered. Otherwise, there won't _be_ an army to fight the spawn. That line isn't going to hold. I hope the officers saw that!"

A sudden, terrible noise echoed through the chokepoint where the King's own forces and the Wardens were trying to hold their ground. It sounded like wails of despair, intermingled with the howls of triumphant Darkspawn and the roars of the ogres. The Hawke siblings stared over the wall, transfixed with horror, as the line buckled. One of the ogres had a figure in golden armor clutched in its hand – and then that figure practically exploded in a haze of blood. The front lines disintegrated into chaos and death as countless men and women were slaughtered.

"Maker preserve us,Carver, that was the_ King _that_ thing _just killed!" She felt the blood drain from her face, and even she began to give in to fear.

_So this is how it feels when hope fails._

As Aniya grabbed Carver's arm and they both stared in horror, bugles began to split the air. They were sounding a retreat, as if the impending rout wasn't already painfully obvious. How anyone could hear them over the horrible chorus of the Darkspawn was a mystery.

"Right. Let's get out of here!" she grabbed Carver's arm and tried to pull him along with her. "Sarge! Guard!" The mabari fell back with her, after snapping at a Darkspawn that Carver had overborne. Aniya dispatched it with her last throwing knife.

"But-" He was still transfixed with horror.

"_Now, Carver_! If we die here, we get ourselves killed for nothing!"

Carver started to say something and then nodded and followed her. They fled together, followed by a horrible din that Aniya would remember in her nightmares for years afterward. They were slowed several times by advance clusters of Darkspawn that had gotten around the main army. Finally, they had gotten clear, it seemed; to the southwest, towards Ostagar, the sounds had begun to fade. They staggered to a stop and both fell to their knees, breathing heavily. A few other stragglers emerged onto the open field with them and stopped too. They were all too stunned and demoralized to do much but try to catch their breath.

As they started to get their wind back, Aniya had a horrible thought, and she _knew_ in her gut that it was going to become reality.

"We have to get to Lothering, Carver. That's the next place they'll go. We have to warn the village and get Mother and Bethany out of there! Nothing this far south can stop that horde now!"

Carver stared at her in horrified disbelief and nodded slowly as her words sank in. Aniya was a veteran of much more action than he was, and as much as he dreaded it, she was probably right.

Wordlessly, they picked up their weapons again and staggered northward toward home.

* * *

><p><em>After Lothering fell, the remaining members of the Hawke family fled. On the way, they encountered a Templar, Ser Wesley, and his wife, Aveline Vallen. After some initial friction over the Templar confronting Bethany as an apostate, Ser Wesley and Aveline joined forces with the Hawke family. Unfortunately, Carver lost his life protecting Leandra Hawke from an ogre, which was later slain by the future Champion. Ser Wesley, unfortunately, was succumbing to the Darkspawn Taint, and was granted release by Aveline when it became clear his situation was hopeless.<em>

_That battle drew the notice, oddly, of Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, who, as odd as it may sound, rescued the remaining party members in exchange for a favor. I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't been there myself later when that favor was completed…_

_-From the notes of Varric Tethras, regarding the Champion of Kirkwall_


	4. Chapter 4

_Bioware owns all. I just play with it. _

_**Aniya's Tattoos**_

**A/N**: This will become important later in _Common Ground._ I don't feel like rewriting the prologue to fit it in, so it's here as a one-off. It fits in between Chapters 1 and 2 of the prologue. No Fenris in this one shot, though. Sorry! 

_Southern Ferelden, near the Ruins of Ostagar_

_9:29 Dragon_

"I know I don't need to remind you of the importance of your charges and your unit, Corporal Hawke. This is a post of great responsibility, and if you weren't worthy, I wouldn't have recommended you to replace Victor."

"Thank you, Sir!" Aniya said crisply, still at attention. The promotion had been a surprise, but among the sappers, this wasn't uncommon given the danger of the job.

"At ease, Hawke. That's enough formality for now." Lieutenant Carlson chuckled at his newly promoted protégée. "Well done, by the way. I think that's the fastest anyone's gone from the runt to the boss."

Hawke's cheeks pinked a bit – even though she was a veteran of several years now. Carlson waved his hand at her.

"Dismissed. Your unit's already been told, by the way. Just don't let them get too hung over."

Before she left, Aniya smiled at her commanding officer and laughed.

"Don't forget, Sir, I know where about a half a dozen ah…" she paused and cleared her throat significantly, "'discouraging' herbs grow around here. If I have to lace the kegs, I will." With that, she saluted smartly and left, closing the tent flap behind her.

Carlson actually laughed out loud. The girl – full-fledged soldier, now – was not only charismatic enough to command respect, but subtle enough to use her skills to maintain order. It was why he'd pressed so hard to have her promoted.

"Aniya! Er…" Carver squinted at the new sigil on Aniya's armor, "Excuse me, _Corporal_ Hawke, " he laughed, "You're late." He had come to join the celebration in her unit. Aniya was well liked, so there was considerable enthusiasm in their congratulations and celebration.

Aniya peered at her brother before relaxing into a smile.

"The tattoo artists will still be there, Carver. I can't see why the lot of you are in such a rush to get all kinds of crude images permanently inked into your skin." She rolled her eyes.

_If you're going to do that, do it with some class, Brother. No naked ladies or mabari or the usual crap for me. _

"Oh, come on, you're not going to chicken out _now_, are you?" Carver clapped her on the back. Aniya winced, then laughed. Her brother already reeked of a few ales. Since no engagements were expected for a couple of days, anyone planning on engaging in the tradition of getting tattooed before a major battle was probably already drunk or most of the way there.

_Not me, though. I need to have my wits about me for this. There are good reasons not everyone has facial tattoos. In this army, usually only the sappers are crazy enough to get those, but we have our reasons. And now, I need mine._

"No, I'm not. I have a very specific idea in mind, and I need it done before the next engagement. I just hope they have assigned a junior healer again." The last thing any of them needed was a bloodied, infected mess over the new images.

"No, but they did bring the potions and salves over from where the more junior mages were practicing, so we should have that covered. One of the artists might be like our sister, too." Carver looked at her significantly.

_A mage. That's bold, right under the Circle's detachment's nose._ Aniya nodded and handed Carver the mug he'd set down and almost forgotten.

"Want some, sis?" he said cheerily.

"No thanks, Carver. I just – " Aniya shuddered, "- don't care for ale all that much anymore. You know that."

"Fine, your loss." Carver bolted the rest of it and looked around for a keg.

When they reached the series of impromptu lean-tos being used by the various elves and humans who claimed to know the art of tattooing, Carver stumbled on ahead and met up with the rest of the young men who were lining up for their turn under the needle. Aniya shook her head. At this rate, she'd already cut her own team off, but they could handle it. In the King's army, an unfortunate fact was that the sappers tended to drink to cope. Most of them also had high pain tolerance due to their trade.

_That'll happen when you're working with acids, irritants, poisons, and dusts like we do._ Besides, most of them were pretty thoroughly inked anyway. Only a few were here for new 'work'.

Aniya wandered along the row until she found the one actual tent among the artists. She coughed politely outside the tent flap.

"Come in, come in." Another female voice spoke from inside the tent. "I'm ready for you."

Aniya ducked into the tent and studied the artist as she took her tools out of the fire to cool. The woman was an elf, and she had graceful patterns tattooed into the skin of her bare arms and peeking up from the collar of her ink-stained shirt.

"Good evening, Moira." Aniya inclined her head respectfully, still studying the patterns of ink on those arms. That had been what caught her attention – the elf was actually a runner for the officers, and did this as a side source of income. Aniya had stared at her in camp so often that the self-assured older elf had finally confronted her over it. It had worked out amicably, which was why Aniya was here tonight.

Moira looked up at her with a pair of light green, almost hazel eyes. The grey streaks in her hear marked her age, but her face was still unlined.

"Good evening, Hawke. What can I do for you? I assume you're here for the usual pre-war ritual?"

Aniya laughed.

"Well, yes and no. I told you that I admired your work," Aniya gestured over the elf's arms, "and that's what interests me. If I'm going to have tattoos, I want them to be different."

"Let's talk, then. What did you have in mind?"

Aniya took a deep breath.

"It's odd."

"My dear, you probably haven't even _seen_ what I consider odd." Moira rolled her eyes and chuckled. Aniya blushed.

_Come on, Aniya. You can do this. _"I want something on my face. Something that is like your lines here, that accents the shape of my face and my coloration."

Moira sat back on her heels. Then, she reached over to her table and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a stick of charcoal. She also took a small twig from the table and lit a second lantern, providing better light.

"What sort of pattern did you want?"

"Well," Aniya took another deep breath. "I trust your tastes. Can I see what you would do if you were me and had that in mind?"

Moira clearly hadn't been expecting that, and she looked flattered. She looked up, then, locking eyes with Aniya.

"Hold still. Let me look at you. Straight on at first, then I'll have you turn."

The process went on for at least half a candlemark, as Moira had Aniya turn her face this way and that. She muttered to herself as she did so, and Aniya caught something about outlining the shapes and taking the Hawke into account. Finally, she surveyed her work, took out a couple of her inks, and lightly colored the design by using her fingertips. Then, she held it out to Aniya.

"What do you think?"

Aniya took the parchment and looked at it. What she saw took her breath away. The pattern Moira proposed was a series of three graceful, curving, and sweeping lines of a russet color, with slight 'dustings' of gold around the edges. The lines would run along the contours of her cheeks. Looking from her nose outward, they curved into a stylized shape that suggested a hawk's wing.

"I…yes, that's _perfect."_

Moira smiled. Then she turned serious.

"I think that's some of my better work, but it will make you very distinctive, especially among humans. People will know you at a glance, and with these colors, cosmetics won't cover them very well. Are you certain that's what you want?"

"Yes. Actually, that's the point. I want my squad to be able to recognize me on sight even if I'm goggled and capped, in case we have to change plans very quickly. That happens more often than I'd like. Most of my unit has facial tattoos of some kind. By the way, suggesting my name with the lines," Aniya ran her fingers over the curves suggesting a bird's wings, "is a great touch."

_That and my vanity really, really likes that idea. I may live to regret that, but…to the void with that. Those are __**beautiful**__! _Aniya was enchanted with the idea now. There was no way she wasn't going to proceed. She nodded at Moira.

"The other thing is that since this is going onto your face, it will hurt more than many tattoos do. I notice you seem sober," the elf looked at her pointedly, "Do you want to be so when I do this?"

Aniya nodded.

Moira stared at her with respect and motioned for Aniya to lie back on her table, which resembled a healer's workspace. She lit yet a third lantern, laid out a series of inks and needles, and washed Aniya's face thoroughly. Then, she let it dry and leaned in.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Just try to relax. This will hurt, but I am good at what I do, and I'll try to make it as quick as I can."

Moira was right. It hurt like a _son of a bitch. _Aniya whimpered a couple of times, but managed not to cry out or scream. Her considerable pain tolerance, however, _was _being sorely tested. Several times, Moira sat back to stretch her arms or survey her handiwork. It took at least two candle marks to complete. When she was done, Moira sat back with a satisfied expression on her face.

"All right. The ink work is finished, but I see something else I want to do," the middle-aged elf leaned back, glanced at Aniya, then ran her hands over Aniya's new tattoos without touching them. Aniya felt a cool tingle on her face.

_Healing magic! Are you mad, Moira?_

Moira must have read her thoughts on her face, and nodded.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that to yourself, but I didn't feel comfortable using salves alone on that. They'll work fast enough, but I wanted to make sure the skin didn't get disturbed, which it would have if you'd used them. Facial skin is far more delicate and can't take that kind of punishment after this." Moira's voice was low, pitched for Aniya's ears only. Aniya answered just as sincerely.

"My – father was an apostate mage, Moira. Your secret is safe with me."

Moira nodded, and held up a mirror. Before she handed it to Aniya, however, she set it back down.

"I should warn you that the surrounding skin is still fairly red, but that should subside. What you see now will become a little better defined then, and the gold should stand out a little more." With that, she passed Aniya the mirror. Aniya took a deep breath and looked into it.

She barely recognized the exotic creature looking back at her. Where empty expanses of skin had been before, her face was now beautifully lined in color, and it really brought out the good features of her bone structure. The colors worked very well with her dark eyes and red hair; the gold would simply help accent her skin tone and any accents in her hair when she was in full sun.

They were a declaration and a challenge, not just an identification mark. They said, _I know who I am, and I am no one to be trifled with. If I were, I wouldn't have these._

"What do you think?" Moira's slightly smug expression suggested she already knew.

"I…that's _perfect_. I love it! My family will probably hate it, but I'm of age. They can learn to cope." _I can't imagine what Mother will say. Who knows. Oh well, It's too late now!_

Aniya started to hand the elf the fee they'd agreed upon. Moira went through the coin, selected a small sum, and handed the rest back to her. Aniya gaped, speechless. Moira hugged the shocked woman, stepped back, and spoke in a warm voice.w

"Thank you for letting me do something that isn't a thrice damned mabari or a naked elf. You have no idea how much I appreciate just getting to do something _I_ think will look good. You might guess I don't get that opportunity often."

Aniya nodded silently. Moira indicated the tent flap gracefully, and with a respectful nod, Aniya departed.


End file.
